Hunger Games: Keep Your Eyes Open
by Heart of the dagger
Summary: Taking place 2 years before the novel, our fighters must band together to unravel a conspiracy regarding the 73rd annual Hunger Games before time runs out.


KEEP YOU EYES OPEN

A "Hunger Games" Story

Based on "Eyes Open" by Taylor Swift

Chapter 1

Today promised to be a warm and inviting day here in the Capitol. From here in my bedroom at the top of the tower, I could see the sun reflecting off all of the gleaming surfaces of the surrounding buildings. Down below, in the streets, everyone went about their lives. The had been abuzz with the news of the upcoming 73rd annual Hunger Games.

What are the Hunger Games? Well, it's a friendly competition, really. Every year, a boy and girl are selected from each of the 12 districts to compete. Their sent to an arena, with only one rule: survive. Kill or be killed. Last person standing is richly rewarded as is their home district. District 13, to say the least, has been barred ever since burning burned to the ground in the last uprising. Fools. All of them.

But this year, our dear President, Coriolanus Snow, announced an edict that no one would be immune from the Reaping. This sent shockwaves through the entire country of Panem for 2 big reasons: Only Capitol citizens were immune from the Reaping. And everyone's names would be entered once.

During the Reaping, 1 boy, and 1 girl are randomly selected from the pool of eligible names. It is possible to be entered more than once. Mostly by asking favors from the capitol, or it's local district representatives. So, this order leveled the playing field for everyone. Which is something that hasn't happened since the inception of the Games themselves.

After the rebellion was crushed, the capitol instituted the Games as a way to bring the 13 districts under control. When District 13 was razed, it sent a message to everyone else: the rebellion was over. Submit, or die. After all, the generous prizes the capitol handed out after each victory weren't cheap. All we did was ask that be earned. It wasn't too much to ask.

In the end...we all sacrificed something.

Today was a day unlike any other day. There was a certain buzz in the air. Today was Reaping Day. Today the 1st representatives from the Capitol, the first in a little over 70 years, were going to be chosen to represent us in the games. It would be a huge honor to those chosen. Called "Tributes", some of them have trained their entire lives on how to fight. How to kill. How to survive. How to bring home the trophy.

On this day, the entire city, even the entire country, would effectively shut down for this day. Turn out was voluntary, but not showing up would bring the consequences of arrest, and jail time. After all, why not show up for this greatest of occasions? Besides, even if someone was chosen, and weren't present, they would be hunted down and forced to participate. There's no dodging one's responsibility to themselves, their family, friends, district, and, ultimately, to the Capitol.

To not participate in the games was considered an act of treason.

I went through my morning routine of getting in a small workout, a shower, before taking care of any family business. My father was involved with developing experimental technology for the arena, and other capitol projects. Right now, his pet project was a cannon that could shoot fire over medium distances. So far, the experiments proved promising, even if it would be a couple years before it was ready. He had been toying around with a few other, smaller things as well.

Ever since developing a mechanism that would allow for the Gamemakers to control the arena's day/night cycle, my father had been tapped by the government to come up with more exciting, and elaborate, traps for the other arenas. Using his expertise, he even managed to resurrect an old arena that been falling apart, that was way over in the desert region.

It had been abandoned after being deemed "not dangerous enough". Well, a few tweaks, and a couple major overhauls later, it was one of the best ones; even outdoing some of the more modern ones. It quickly gained a reputation for being the most bloody of the arena; battle often being quick, and brutal. Safe to say the Capitol only used it during the most..."special" of the games.

He was already wealthy when he was born; set to receive a record inheritance. His money and resources allowed him to build the perfect laboratory and put his technical genius into effect. When his inventions were perfect, he would sell them off to the capitol for large sums of money. With the cash rolling in practically non stop we moved to a gigantic suite that was in the shadow of the capitol building itself. Of course, we were on the top floor. Only the most privileged got to live in this building. We certainly earned it though. I know my dad worked hard to get it, so why not enjoy it?

I had my finest tuxedo on, when I walked back out onto the balcony. There was a nice breeze, being up this high. A long shadow was cast over this building. The sun rose from behind the capitol building. One could always tell what time it was just by tracking the shadow. It was fun. Sort of. Oh well. At the foot our building, I could see the stage being built.

The rumor mill had it that Effie Trinket herself would be here. She was the spritely personality that would oversee all the reapings from across Panem, even though she stuck close to District 12. Why this is, I have no idea. Maybe someone higher up thought it would make for the perfect assignment for her. All I know is that her constantly upbeat personality, and sheer state of obliviousness, could give someone diabetes. She had a reputation for being annoying. But there was no denying her sense of style.

It seemed like 99.9% of all the capitol citizens chose to dress in weird, gaudy, ostentatious outfits. Everywhere one went, there were neon colors walking around. I never understood the appeal. It made no sense to me. Especially with the layers and layers of make up the woman would sometimes wear...Maybe it was the fashionable thing to do. I preferred to keep my style nice and simple. The most effective way, I think.

My dad blew into the dining room and sat at the head of the long, oak table. He was on the phone, chattering away excitedly. He gestured wildly to whoever he was talking to. He casually tossed me a wave, and within a few seconds a butler brought in a tray full of breakfast for him.

This is how it was for us. He was always on the phone, having private discussions in his office, or entertaining guests. He very rarely acknowledged my presence, so his flippant wave was a treat. I went back to my holopad, clicking through the news that didn't talk about the upcoming festivities. Out the corner of my eye, I watched as dad woofed down his breakfast, and then promptly left. The butler picked up the tray, and took it back to the kitchen. How my dad could eat like that and not gain a pound...I'll never know.

I quickly finished my own round of scrambled eggs, before going out to the courtyard. The gardeners were tending to the landscaping. Cutting grass, pruning leaves, and generally tending to the bushes and flowers. I quickly checked my watch. The Reaping would be starting in about an hour. It was my duty to be up on stage, in the background, with my family just before it started. As far as I can remember, the idea always made me nervous. I never told anyone, but stagefright was something I suffered from. Being in front of all those people...I shuddered at the idea.

Later on in the morning, the crowds began to assemble. The tension was palpable to say the least. Most of them were excited to see who was going to be picked. But for those of the eligible age, the nervousness was thick in the air. On the stage, I sat on the very end, on the left. Which meant the podium was on my right. Photographers were everywhere, snapping pics of everything. And I do mean, every little thing. I swear I was going to go blind from all the flashing. Down around the stage, reports held forth, in their professional, about how given President Snow's recent shake up has changed everything.

Soon enough, a signal was given, and everything went quiet. A video started playing. It started off with a 500 piece choir singing the Panem national anthem. Then the President's voice intoned, detailing the history of Panem. From the Revolution of 1776, to the rebellion, which gave rise to the Hunger Games.

Yeah, yeah, heard it before. Can we move along, please? I've heard this story so many times, I had it practically memorized. It wasn't bad. It's just that after a while, it sounded like he was just droning on and on.

After it was over, Effie took the stage. She had really outdone herself this year. In a garish, frilly, puffy pink outfit, and a makeup that looked more like a mask, she had the air of a mannequin come to life. It didn't help that she had appeared on the cover of "Capitol Couture" a few times, and had even won their "Most Stylish" award several times in a row. It had gone to her head.

She went on, talking about how this was a proud moment for all of us, and talking up how this would go down in history, or something. At this point, I couldn't be bothered until she had announced that the time for picking the tributes was at hand. I perked up slightly.

"Good luck! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" She announced cheerily. Whatever. I'm guessing she shot herself up full of sugar beforehand. After all, when it comes to gambling, aren't the odds always with the house?

She reached into a bowl that had tiny slips of paper for all the eligible girls. She randomly picked one out from the middle of the tangled mass.

"Traylo Hartreed!"

Out of the crowd, a girl with red hair emerged. She was shaken, but kept up a brave face. I could see her parents crying from here. She was someone I didn't recognize. What I did know was that she was a Career tribute. She would be a formidable opponent.

Effie reached into the second bowl.

"Harcos Von Strider!"

I jumped!

No!

It's not true!

That's impossible!

It was me!


End file.
